


Professional/Personal Interest

by penny



Series: Shock & Awe - Utility Workers AU [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: come_shots, Competence Kink, F/F, Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, so your interest is a little more than professional." Martel grins, and Olivia's patience snaps. She kisses Martel, and she can taste the lingering echo of the house stout and something faintly cinnamony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Professional/Personal Interest

**Author's Note:**

> For Come Shots theme "time to celebrate".

They finish the Southern-Central #2 230 kV line two and a half weeks ahead of schedule, thanks in large part to the two crews Central took off their regular work help make the final connections. Olivia hadn't even been aware Central had two crews certified for transmission work. Most places only keep one. Most except for Northern, which has three, but that's because snow and ice take out so many lines in so many places that if Northern have to wait for a roaming crew like hers, people would be out of power for weeks, and that tends to make people cranky.

Central's weather is fairly mild. It certainly doesn't _need_ two transmission certified crews, but then it is the capital. Can't have a key transmission line down for too long.

Even more surprising, the Central crews are _good_. Olivia wouldn't mind snagging some of their members. She can't have either foreman for her crew -- a relief when it comes to Greed, because he's the type of swaggering bastard she can't stand; and a pity when it comes to Kimberly, because he's the right kind of crazy to climb out on the lines for the middle of fuck nowhere repairs they have to reach via helicopter -- but maybe she can woo away a couple of the grunts. Like Ross. Or Martel.

That's the reason she accepts the invitation from the Central crews to celebrate at one of the breweries in the Old District. Miles and Buccaneer exchange one of their looks, and she's been around them long enough that she can read their disbelief as easily as they can.

"Fine. Stay in the hotel if you want. Enjoy your alone time."

Miles rolls his eyes. Buccaneer tries to glower at her, but he's worked under her long enough, that he can't quite make it work. She smirks at them. "The brewery's a good one, Warehouse Thirteen. Owner's grandfather brought the family recipe all the way from Drachma."

Miles perks up. "They've got stouts?"

"Best you'll find in Amestris."

"Well then." He slings his coat over his shoulder. "We better make sure you stay out of trouble, boss."

"Saying I can't handle myself?"

"Saying they can't handle you. Wouldn't want any fancy Central egos getting bruised."

Their hotel is close enough to the Old District that they can walk. There have been some improvements in Central since the last time she was here. Actual sidewalks, for one, and some cleanup along the river. The biggest improvement is the paper mill, decommissioned for five years now, long enough that there's no longer the lingering odor.

And the Old District's been revitalized, at least along the outskirts. Some of the closed factories have been converted to restaurants, breweries, coffee shops, and even some art galleries. Not Olivia's scene, but she'd rather see the buildings full than empty.

Warehouse Thirteen is just beyond the gentrified area of the Old District. The Central crews are already there. Martel and Dorochet are about halfway through a game of pool. Greed's sitting at a nearby table with Kimberly's crew and waves them over with that cocky grin of his. "Thought you were going to stand us up."

Kimberly snorts from the other end of the table. "He means he was hoping you'd stand us up and make Martel all distraught so he could take advantage of her delicate state."

"Oh fuck you," Martel says from the pool table.

Kimberly leans back to glance at her. "Heard a rumor you'd be so disappointed, you'd cry."

"Sounds like a rumor you'd start." She circles around the table to line up her next shot and checks the back of Kimberly's chair with her hip.

Kimberly straightens up. "Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart. Just repeating what I've heard."

"I thought Greed was the rumor queen," Olivia says, sliding into one of the free seats. She can feel Miles and Buccaneer exchanging another one of their looks.

The smile Greed flashes her is all teeth. "Nah, I'm just the gossip king. I hear you all are getting a sweet bonus for the early finish. Maybe we should have you buy the beers."

"Sure." She motions for Miles and Buccaneer to grab some pitchers.

Kimberly snorts again. "You've never seen Greed drink."

"Oh, like you're a teetotaler," Ross says, and it looks like it just slipped out, because she blushes and reaches for her mug and takes a quick swallow.

Kimberly's smile widens. "We need to get stout in you more often."

Ross' blush deepens.

"Don't pick on her," Olivia says.

"Oh, Kimberly gentle with her. Says she's got potential."

"She does. I want her on my crew."

Ross looks startled. "You do?"

"Miles is due to step up to foreman. I'd take you on as an apprentice."

Ross glances over at Kimberly. He's leaning back again, running his index finger around the rim of his mug, and he's still smiling slightly, but for the most part, his expression is guarded.

Everyone's looking at them, even Martel and Dorochet. Miles and Buccaneer return with the trays, and Ross startles when they set them down. "Your boss," says Kimberly, "is trying to steal my apprentice."

"She says no, I'll go after Greed's," Olivia says, pouring herself a mug. The stout is, as always, excellent. She needs to get back to Central more often. What they bottle isn't quite as good, especially by the time it reaches her. Alex sends it through the cheapest post.

"Poacher," Kimberly says, but there's no bite to it. In fact, he looks pleased.

"She doesn't have much shame," Miles says, sitting between Ross and Greed. Buccaneer slides him a twenty. At Olivia's raised eyebrow, he says, "He had money on you going after Martel first."

"My girl's not going anywhere," Greed says, and he all but purrs it.

"I don't know about that," Martel says, turning back to the pool table. "I'd get nearly double the pay."

"You'd miss us," Greed says.

"You could come visit." She nails her shot, moves to the other side of the table to line up her next one, meets Olivia's eyes briefly, and smirks.

"That's not funny," Dorochet says, just when Martel takes her shot, and there's got to be something between them, because her hand slips, and she ends up scratching.

And after that, Dorochet wins the game.

* * *

Three beers and not nearly enough food in, and she's feeling a little fuzzy. Kimberly's right about Greed. The bastard can drink. So can the rest of his crew, except for Martel, who's matching Ross' slow pace.

If she wants to be honest, she's more than a little fuzzy. She feels a bit wobbly when she rises to go to the bathroom. She's washing her hands when Martel saunters in, leaning back against the door. "You serious about poaching Ross?"

"Her or you." She meets Martel's eyes in the mirror. "Like I said, Miles will be stepping up to foreman. He might get Buccaneer, too."

She pushes away from the door. "Greed's right. I'm not going anywhere." She moves closer. "Life here in Central and all that. But you have a shot at Ross." She grins. "She looks good seventy-five feet up, huh?"

Olivia turns. Martel's close enough now that her only options are to slide to one side or get pinned against the sink, but Martel stops just short of pinning distance. Olivia says, "So do you."

It's apparently the invitation Martel's been waiting for. She closes the distance, sliding her thigh between Olivia's, and leans in close. "And now?"

"You still look good." Olivia presses against her, loops her fingers through Martel's belt loops.

"Oh, so your interest is a little more than professional." Martel grins, and Olivia's patience snaps. She kisses Martel, and she can taste the lingering echo of the house stout and something faintly cinnamony.

Martel threads her fingers through Olivia's hair and rises up on her toes so her thigh rides up, and she laughs, lightly, so it's just a vibration.

It's a slow kiss. Deep. More personal than Olivia usually allows so soon, but she likes the taste of Martel, likes the way Martel's rocking against her, the slow, steady friction.

Olivia slides her hands up under Martel's shirt. Her skin is smooth, muscles firm, and Olivia relishes the contrast.

Martel breaks the kiss. "Looking to fuck me here?"

"Looking to take the edge off here. Then I might try sweet talking you back to my room."

Martel laughs, and damn she looks good with her lips red and slick and eyes bright. "You might _try_?"

"You don't seem like a sweet talk girl. I might try flat-out asking."

"Flat-out asking will work." Martel leans in and kisses her again.

* * *

Martel is even more glorious in bed. Olivia drinks her in. Or more accurately, they drink each other in. Olivia likes the flex of Martel's thighs, the taste of her tattoo. "Pink?" she asks, mouthing the word against Martel's shoulder.

"I'm a pretty, pretty princess." Martel rakes her fingers through Olivia's hair, firm, but not hard enough to hurt. "I want all those bastards to know a girl is keeping up with them."

Olivia laughs and nips her way down to Martel's breast. Martel shifts, and ah, that's what Olivia was going for, the slide of Martel's thigh between hers again. She rocks against it, feeling the fluttering build of pleasure.

They fuck slow and languid. Martel likes penetration, and Olivia likes the way she clenches around her fingers. "More," Martel says when she's got three fingers in.

Olivia curls her fingers, gives her more, and god, she's so slick and tight.

"More."

Olivia's breath hitches. "Really?"

Martel grins and rolls her hips. "Yes. More."

Martel's breathless and sweat-slicked. Olivia gives her more, leans in to lick the sweat from the curve of Martel's breast. Martel grinds against her, and her tiny noises make Olivia wet.

Martel fists her hand in Olivia's hair, holds Olivia firmly in place as she arches and comes with a long, low moan, clenching so tight, the tendons in Olivia's wrist tremble under the strain. When she loosens her grip, Olivia pulls back, then eases out.

Olivia settles down on her side and raises her hand to her mouth. Martel's eyes gleam as Olivia sucks her fingers clean. "Going to try sweet talking me to go down on you?"

Olivia laughs. "I might try flat-out asking."

"Flat-out asking will work." Martel rolls, forcing Olivia onto her back, and straddles her. She runs her hands over her breasts and rolls her hips, teasing Olivia with the friction, with her lingering wetness, with the press of her. "But I'm going to take my time."

Olivia curls her hands around Martel's hips. "I won't complain."


End file.
